


Restored

by amoama



Category: A Suitable Boy (TV), A Suitable Boy - Vikram Seth
Genre: Blow Jobs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:08:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26237629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amoama/pseuds/amoama
Summary: Gentle apology blow job/Maan is a changed man, but he still knows just how Firoz likes it. Set the night of Lata's wedding.
Relationships: Maan Kapoor/Firoz Khan
Comments: 12
Kudos: 19
Collections: Bring Back The Porn Challenge





	Restored

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a long time since I read the book, but I finished watching the series last night. 
> 
> This fic is pretending to be a series of drabbles but that was really just to help me write it quicker.

Maan spends the whole of Lata’s wedding with his arm around Firoz. At times his head comes to rest on Firoz’s shoulder, at others he toys with the hair at the nape of Firoz’s neck. Firoz can’t help enjoying it. Forgetting for a moment the cause of their separation, the time Maan spent in jail and Firoz spent in hospital was the longest they have gone without seeing each other in their whole lives. His body has missed Maan’s touch and he shivers at every seemingly casual caress and longs for more. His body, it seems, will forgive Maan anything. 

*

At the end of the night Maan follows Firoz home, for once it is Maan holding Firoz up, although neither of them are drunk. Maan lays him down carefully, and hushes Firoz when he protests against Maan aiding him to undress. “No, let me,” Maan says. Firoz is tired, he has been in pain for a while. Maan traces his scarred abdomen with one finger, then, overcome, he presses his mouth to the scar. His kisses are another apology. When he raises his head there are tears racing down his cheeks.

“Oh, Maan,” he says, “You always cry at weddings.”

*

Maan nods, “It’s true, I do.” There’s a smile that hides a hint of the old Maan. Firoz pulls him down so he can kiss that smile. 

“What can I do to make you feel better?” Maan asks when he resurfaces, breathless, from Firoz’s kiss. His hand is already reaching down Firoz’s body, although perhaps with a hesitancy that’s new. His fingers curl around Firoz’s cock, his grip is tight and slow, wrenching groans from Firoz’s throat. 

“Your mouth would help,” Firoz says, encouragingly, trying his best to keep his body from arching towards Maan, wary of his stitches tearing. 

*

Maan sucks him down to the root almost immediately, the ferocity of his attentions make Firoz want to cry out. He pulls slightly at Maan’s hair, urging him to gentleness. He wants to tell him, we’re home and safe, this wont be the last time you get to do this. It’s almost unbelievable that Maan could stab him, however unintended, and turn himself into the police, and Firoz come so close to death, and still, here they are. Maan proving to them both how little has changed. 

But there is nothing playful in Maan’s touch, nothing casual. And that’s new. 

*

He comes hard, unprepared for it, and it hurts quite a lot. Now Maan gentles him, brushing his hair from his face, kissing Firoz’s brow and eyes and lips. 

“I’m not sure I can let you return the favour,” Maan says, taking in the state of Firoz. 

Firoz stares him down, “You’ll have to do all the work for once.”

The old Maan would have feigned outrage, but now he sweeps his hand over Firoz’s cheek, “I’ll do the work, I promise.”

He climbs up to the kneel over Firoz so he can feed him his cock. Firoz welcomes it.

*

Even this position, although not their favourite, is well known to them. Maan knows how much Firoz can take and Firoz can sense Maan holding himself back to ensure he doesn’t choke Firoz as he thrusts. He is using his hand on himself as well and Firoz enjoys the weight of Maan on his tongue, the all-consuming nature of him, astride and above him, readying himself to come down Firoz’s throat. 

When he does, the taste of him is wondrously familiar and Firoz swallows gratefully. Maan rolls off him, shuffling himself immediately against Firoz’s side. 

“Firoz,” he whispers, “I’m sorry.”

*

“I know,” Firoz replies, “But it’s alright now.” 

He wonders if it is. 

His body is relaxed for the first time in months. He might even sleep without nightmares. But for all the familiarity, Maan is different. 

Firoz has always hidden the depth of his love. It was easy to do, when Maan was Maan: self-absorbed, over-affectionate, ruled by transient passions. But now Firoz could ask for the moon, and Maan would fetch it for him. He could say, love me first, longest, most truly. It’s never needed to be said, but now, he thinks, Maan might want him to.


End file.
